


Unfixable

by thetreesgrowodd



Category: Toy Story Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Identities, Backstory, Community: disney_kink, F/M, Miracles, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-04
Updated: 2010-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-11 11:39:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/112036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thetreesgrowodd/pseuds/thetreesgrowodd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Woody's past has been long and painful. Nothing less than a miracle can fix him now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfixable

Woody dreams about the day he lost Jessie. Mom threw her in the wastebasket, muttering about the cost of toys. Woody prayed that the damage Jessie had taken from those careless children was enough to separate her spirit from the tatters of her body. No matter how much he loved her, how much he feared she was aware and alone and in pain, he dared not go check on her. He was young and naive (some said cowardly) and he didn't go against the actions of his Owners and the Creator. For he believed that surely there must be a Greater Power with a Plan for them all. How else could toys, mere scraps of cloth and vinyl, have life?

He wakes on Andy's shelf and remembers that 'Mom' is now 'Great-Grandma,' and he is no longer the toy who sat still for days and imagined that Jessie was in agony until the trash was burned. At some point along the way, he stopped believing that his Owner's will over him was absolute, stopped even believing in a Creator's guiding hand. He became a toy who believed in his own power only and turned into the heroic Sheriff Woody. Tragic Sheriff Woody, too, haunted by the woman he did not save.

But as the years have passed he has become old, grumpy, passive Sheriff Woody, hero no more.

He is utterly weary of life. Nothing will fix that.

Being brought down from the attic and given to Robert's child should have fixed him. But Woody feels nothing for him (though he is a fine boy and doesn't deserve this indifference). The new toys look up to him in a fearful, distant way, and he can't be bothered to remember their names. He should at least be glad to finally be away from Angelica. She was a mistake he made over and over. The attic is too small a place for two bitter ex-lovers. Now he doesn't have to see her, except in late December when she smirks at him from atop the tree, but he can easily avoid that. Andy doesn't like Woody enough to take him out of his bedroom.

So it's a shock when Robert breaks the blur of passing days by taking Woody off the shelf. Robert smiles at him and gives him to Andy for the long car ride. Andy tosses him aside quickly enough and Woody deduces from their conversation that they're going to visit Robert's parents. Ah. Woody is only here to aid their nostalgia.

There is a massive noise and Woody tumbles, limbs flailing, into the front seat. The engine is running and the radio is on, but Robert is no longer in the driver's seat. Andy screams and screams in the car seat in the back, but appears unharmed. Woody climbs up to the dashboard and numbly sees the gaping windshield, the blood and glass on the hood, and beyond that, Robert on the pavement.

No one is there yet, so Woody runs to him. Bends down to look at his face. Robert is moving feebly and his eye focuses on Woody, but for the first time Woody doesn't feel the overpowering impulse to go as limp as the rag doll he is. Could it be an indication that the human looking at him is dying? He's not surprised. There is no question that these injuries are fatal.

Woody feels his first strong emotion in years; rage. How dare he be spared the death he has longed for? Why is he only a witness to this destruction? What is the point of an accident that claims a man who still loves life and family? He cared for Robbie once. Maybe he loves him still. He touches the dying man's cheek and senses his emotions in an engulfing wave. He is furious. He won't leave his family, he won't miss Andy growing up, he is being dragged into death, kicking and screaming.

Yet he recognizes and accepts Woody's obvious sentience easily, and with a pure awe. He wishes he knew sooner. Their friendship was needlessly one-sided.

And suddenly Woody is the one on the pavement looking at the little cowboy doll that is touching his face. The toy blinks, looks around startled, brown painted eyes struggling to focus on his own tiny vinyl hands, then the dying man, then the mangled car.

"Andy."

He runs toward the boy but falls limp and glassy eyed when a car squeals to a stop. Soon there are voices and sirens all around them. Woody's vision is dimming, but he sees someone take the cowboy doll to the screaming child to calm him.

 

All is in order. Now, to find Jessie.


End file.
